Elephants at my House

Writing has pretty much dwindled down to a trickle at my place. Mostly, it's because I'm so busy feeding the elephants. All of us have elephants--some have more than others. Some folks work around the space their elephants occupy. Others just sit and stare and wonder how to shift them to some other part of their home.

There are those who discuss their elephants in gory, even embarrassing detail. Some try to shove their elephants in the closet, vehemently denying their very existence.

Elephants come in all colors and sizes. How big they grow is determined by how much time and attention we lavish on them. Like all living creatures, they need food and water and care.

The elephants at my house are two vastly different types. One is from the medical-anxieties family. The others are from the insane-family-behavior group. All of them occupy entirely too much of my time. And for what?

I have absolutely no control over any of them. I can't change the outcomes. I can't influence the future. And in at least one case, I can't share the burden of care.

You might say it would be best if I just pushed them out the door. Difficult. Very difficult when hearts are involved. The other day I was speaking to a friend who has her own share of elephants. I pointed out there are some things we have to let go.

I should take my own advice. Open the door and just allow the elephants to leave. Clean up the space they occupied and make better use of it. Who knows what I could do with the time and energy if I'm not taking care of elephants anymore?

anny